


Let's get tipsy and start a rumour

by thekatcameback



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Competency, Domesticity, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friendship, M/M, Team as Family, Undercover Missions, Undercover as Married, everyone is still friends, some misandry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25595743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekatcameback/pseuds/thekatcameback
Summary: Nile vs. Married Life.Or: Nile and Nicky draw the short straws and go undercover to expose a neighbourhood crime ring. It is not Nile's idea of the best time.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova
Comments: 227
Kudos: 1919





	Let's get tipsy and start a rumour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redheartglow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheartglow/gifts).



> What a trope. 
> 
> Normally I go for the undercover friends-to-lovers, but in this case there is no doubt that the friends are aware they are lovers. So: After a long discussion of who Nile would find more ridiculous in an undercover fake relationship, we decided that despite the fact that troll dad may have touched one boob, soft dad would try harder to be a good husband and mortify Nile with his romance.
> 
> Title from Joel Plaskett Emergency's "Fashionable People", which is accidentally the plot of Nile and Nicky's romantic life:  
>  _  
> I feel foolish  
>  I wanna drink too much  
> You look Polish  
> Got a wicked sense of humor  
> I feel dizzy, and I want your touch  
> Let's get tipsy, and start a rumor._
> 
> _I feel restless here  
>  I can't sit still  
> Everybody at this party's got their fingers in the till  
> I bet their parents are ridiculously loaded  
> Let's get moving, before I'm loaded_
> 
> Thank you @redheartglow for yelling with me for eight hours about domesticity and spies and also for letting me read your legitimate charming romance and for always being my troll dad.

Copley’s report says he doesn’t know exactly what they’ll be facing, but they need to blend in and they need to get there soon because there’s something suspicious in white suburban America.

“What else is new,” Nile mutters resentfully as she packs. “Creepy white-ass motherfucking cults.”

Essentials only, their clothes would be coming in cardboard boxes with things like “Bedroom- Brooke’s shirts” written on them. Just enough boxes to make it look like they’d had a life in the town before Springfield, even if all the furniture was new. Nile has done latrine duty before, but this is a new low. She’s adjusted to a lot of what Andy and the guys had thrown at her. She’s expanded her weapons range, she’s learning four languages. She never gives into the voice inside begging her to call her mom. She has literally stepped between Andy and a bullet. Somehow, this is the most annoying thing that has happened to her.

Nile knows she isn’t particularly good at stealth. She’s practicing, but she’s always been able to stand straight and announce her intentions. She thought it was part of what made her a good soldier. She’s growing accustomed to staying below the technological radar, but it’s safe to say that she never thought her F in sophomore drama would come back to haunt her.

She curses her American accent first, for making her the most unassuming figure to be a new neighbour. Second, fuck the ingrained homophobia that would make a heterosexual couple less worthy of study than a gay one. Also, fuck Joe for laughing through the briefing when Nicky drew the short straw to become Marco Davis, newly wed and new in town and definitely not fresh off a dick sucking marathon in an Oregon safe house.

Nicky is lounging on the other bed, resting his head on his already-packed bag. She looks at two scents of deodorant, tosses one in the bag and the other back in the drawer. “You happy about this?”

“It’s the right thing to do,” he says placidly.

“Never seen you and Joe apart, though,” she pushes carefully. “Figured you’d be with him now banking time, actually.”

Nicky tilts his head further back and laughs. “Oh, Nile. Thank you. No, I have gone years without seeing Joe before. Sometimes, I even didn’t know where he was. But we always make it back to each other, and besides, I know who will be manning the radio and wiretaps.”

Nile cracks her neck and zips the bag closed. “How romantic.”

“Romance is the name of this game, yes,” Nicky agrees. He rises and offers her his hand. “Come on, Mrs. Davis. The movers will be there at eleven and I want to scope out the place before they start dropping boxes all over.”

\--

There are already two couples outside when they pull up to the bungalow. Nile steels herself, exchanges the fastest of assenting looks with Nicky, and forces herself to leave the car.

“Oh, wow, it’s just as beautiful as the pictures,” she says.

Nicky comes around the car to stand behind her. Nile does not twitch when he settles his hands on her hips, but it’s a near thing. “Almost as beautiful as you, yes.”

She cracks up and he smiles down at her, and then the welcoming committee is moving in.

“Michael and Brittany Johnson,” the man says and palms his wife’s hip proprietorially. Besides the fact that Nicky is shamelessly her him as a shield, Nile thinks, she definitely prefers his touch to this new guy. “My gal wanted to be the first to get a hello in."

Michael shakes hands with Nicky first, clearly flexing his fingers as he goes. Brittany’s grip is softer but her voice has iconic levels of vocal fry. “Brittany,” she repeats. “And meet Meredith and John.”

“Brooke,” she says and is grateful that Andy made her say the name for a week straight as it rolls off her tongue. “And my husband, Marco. We’re so excited to be here.”

“Marco, like Marco Polo,” Meredith trills. “And I hear a trace of an _accent_ , too, are you also a Venetian explorer?”

Nile has never seen anyone flutter their lashes so hard. John looks unperturbed. Nicky’s hand on her hip tightens with a lightning flash clench of instinctive Italian interstate competition before Nicky leans his head back to laugh. “No, this is my first adventure. Truly, Brooke is the explorer.”

“We met on my business trip to Rome,” Nile agrees and squeezes a hand over Nicky’s, gently dislodging him. “Eloped, for my mother’s sins, and now we’re just ready to get settled into this great new neighbourhood.”

“Of course, of course,” Brittany says. “We knew you’d need some time to get settled, I just know what a hassle moving in can be. We wanted to introduce ourselves so you know if you need anything—a screwdriver, directions to the grocery store, a late night bottle of chilled vino, anything at all, you can come to us. Michael and I are just down the street and Meredith and John are the house to your right.”

“I think we’ve got this handled, right babe?” Nile lands the emphasis hard and Nicky winks at her.

“Garden party on Saturday, don’t you dare miss it,” Brittany says as they cross the street to return home. “If you have any dietary requirements, just let me know! Gluten, kosher, lactose—“

Nile keeps the friendly getting-to-know-you smile on her face as they walk up to the steps. She has the keys, but Nicky stops her with a hand on her shoulder when she goes to enter the foyer.

“Tradition,” he says firmly, and scoops her up in a bridal carry. Nile does not snap his neck but does yelp audibly and keep an arm tight around his shoulders.

“You dick,” she sighs as he sets her down gently. “Some warning, next time.”

“I’ve been reading up on the subject,” Nicky smirks. It’s easy to forget that Joe isn’t the only troll she has to deal with these days. “And I need my wife to know how much she means to me.”

It’s for the best. The faster they can convince the neighbours that they’re down with anything in the area but also so in love they can’t see past each other’s earlobes, the faster they can get some good work done and get out. The other immortals seem to take each new mission in stride, but Nicky tends to the philosophical rather than effusive and direct. Plus, Nile didn’t expect him to be better at playing couple than she was. He’d been with the same person so long they’d surpassed all effective relationship labels and she could still remember how cute her high school girlfriend looked when she squinted at an algebra problem. Young love was her gig.

Nicky wanders off to start unpacking the IKEA flat packs and Nile takes the opportunity to pace the house. Modern house design is also inimical to what they normally do, she can see Nicky going out of his way to avoid turning his back on the wall-wide front window and open plan is not meant for gun fighting. Still, it’s got decent bones. It’s the kind of house she thought she’d buy after active duty, maybe. A little more than a starter home, still paint-smell fresh but not breaking the bank.

She puts out the homey touches she and Booker had hastily collected in pawn shops throughout Michigan, takes the photo of them dressed up, not bride white but definitely looking cute, and puts it in the centre of the mantle.

“Maybe you could start with the big stuff, help with the couch,” Nicky says from where he appears to be losing a battle with the screws on the bottom.

“Did you try the instructions? Or is this the point where your ability to master languages has failed you,” she teases and flips open the sheet.

“That is not a language,” Nicky says with confidence, “and even if it were, I am not the expert in such things.”

He’s speaking carefully. They don’t know enough about these people except for the outline of things that are way bigger than PTA issues and might include military grade bugs. Joe fits naturally at the end of Nicky’s sentence, though she can’t tell if he’s feeling the pinch of separation or just literally pinching his finger between the seam of the couch back and bottom.

“Here, lemme,” she sighs and gets in next to him. “You gotta give it a shove with your shoulder to get the holes lined up and I’ll just—“

When she sits up after securing the two pieces, Nile can see that there’s movement in her peripheral vision. Nicky sits too, in a better position to scope what’s happening, and nods minutely at her raised eyebrows. Then he lifts her hand in both of his and presses a tender kiss to his knuckles. Nile keeps steady and doesn’t look back until he stops laving attention on her and throws himself back into the pile of disassembled parts. In love and oblivious for the watching crowd, she reminds herself, and then we can get the hell out.

They get settled over the next few days. Nile thought she was good at showing affection to people, but now she feels like she missed a trick when she was deployed and got used to teammates rather than lovers. Nicky, for example, holds her hand all. The damn. Time. He takes it when they’re walking down the street, sure. And when they’re grocery shopping? Bold, but his wide handspan seems to allow him to test the ripeness of everything the local organic place has to offer, brightening and holding up fruit so she can smell them and once holding a piece of cheese directly to her lips in front of Gail in the deli section.

Nile hopes that the intensity in her eyes can be mistaken for anything other than her cold, firm promise that she will get him back for this. The constant physical closeness seems to relax him more and more as she gets more tightly wound. Sure, it’s fun when he twirls her in to slow dance to the music drifting through the window after supper. It’s just also that a girl sometimes wants to eat her burger with two hands, in peace.

It’s also surprisingly hard to keep things superficial and in check with their cover. Nile hadn’t realized that her thing with Nicky is intense conversations. Then, there’s some stupid commercial on that reminds her of their third mission, just in the colour or the rhythm of the jingle or something out of reach. The panic hits her and makes her gut clench She spins to him and opens her mouth to explain, then freezes.

“What is it, Brooke,” Nicky asks in exactly the tone he’d use if they were alone at a proper stakeout. He’s poised, ready to move if she commands with a hand drifting towards the seam of the couch where he’d left his gun when they’d got in.

“I was just thinking we should get a pet,” Nile says desperately.

Nicky visibly furls the tension back inside of whichever small place he keeps it outside of missions. His brow furrows in confusion. To any of the depressingly frequent peeping toms in the neighbourhood it might look like he’s just trying to catch up to the subject pivot. Nile knows him well enough to see him trying to find a solution that will work for her. The points in his eyes tick between a pet being a horrible idea for a short term mission and a hassle at border checks, to a consideration of the benefits of therapy animals or trained scouts. “Like, a cat?”

Nile plunges on and takes the initiative to grab at the arm Nicky had rested on her shoulders, lace their fingers together. “I know we said we’re not ready for a baby, Marco, I just really want to make this feel like a home for us.”

Nicky’s panicked look is the straightest thing Nile has ever seen. He mutters, “I, uh,” unintelligibly and then rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Promise me you’ll consider it,” Nile says and bumps their foreheads together gently. She’s seen him and Joe do it and it’s at least as cute as a kiss with the added bonus of going nowhere near Nicky’s actual mouth.

“Anything for you,” he says with more ease. Nile wishes she could draw. She’s going to treasure his horrified face forever and recounting it in words to Booker and Joe is going to be a pain in the ass.

\--

Nile wakes up in the morning and thinks for a moment that Nicky’s finally fallen asleep. He’d stayed up reading every night after they’d climbed into bed at eleven, and still been awake at four last night when she’d got up to pee. Now he’s on his side, facing away from her. Nile tries to swing her legs down carefully to avoid disturbing him.

“I was thinking. Matching outfits, too much for the barbeque today?” he asks without moving. Nile grits her teeth and flops back onto her pillow.

“What, like we both wear polos like real Stepford wives?” she asks and pokes Nicky in the ribs. He turns to lay flat on his back next to her and smiles warmly. He’s starting to form bags under his eyes, though, his skin stretched a little too tight. Nile isn’t actually sure if you can die of sleeplessness, but there is no way she’s going to find out by waking up next to a corpse who’s stayed up pining like a teenage girl.

“Blue shirts would be okay, but I can wear a polo,” he agrees and smiles crookedly. Nile makes a snap decision, rolls on her side to face him.

“Look, that can wait. How about we have a lie in? That’s a thing couples do.” She pushes at his arm, trying to lever him off his back. He fights her for a moment and then shifts back to his side.

“You don’t have to do this, N—“ he cuts himself off. She scoots herself up and carefully wraps an arm over his shoulders.

“Shut up, I’m not doing this for you. I had to leave my bodypillow behind, too,” she grumbles. “Get some fucking sleep, I love you.”

The second wakeup is better. Nicky still looks tired, but his complexion is less drawn and he invests sincere and minute attention to the pros and cons of their garden party outfits. Nile has literally never been to a garden party, but he’s been assuring her for the past ten minutes that linen is very much the way to go because it’s better to look fresh and relaxed than overdone.

“Some will tell women to wear dresses to these things, but I don’t know,” he comments as he holds a blouse up to her thoughtfully. “I think there are many ways to be striking, and I want you to be comfortable on the patio furniture.”

“My white knight,” she drawls. “Can we just go with the blue? You said the blue before, it sounds great.”

“I just think that perhaps you would be better served by a more dramatic jewel tone,” he says distractedly. Nile strips off her t-shirt without turning away, shyness lost, and shrugs her shoulders into the light blue button-down.

“Blue, baby,” with the endearment tacked on at the end as an afterthought. Another surge of romantic brilliance, and she adds, “Like your eyes.”

Nicky looks genuinely flattered. His usual good mood buoys them down the front walk and across the road. Nile’s hand isn’t even sweating yet where he’s interlaced their fingers.

“Brooke! Marco, you made it!” Brittany calls. She has a comically large cocktail in one hand and waves at them with the other. “Glad you found us, ha ha!”

“Ha,” Nile shoots back.

“We brought potato salad!” Nicky says with more enthusiasm. Nile lets her steer him to the side dishes table, grabs herself a hand of chips before they insert themselves into the thick of the mingling crowd.

She does not say, “Have you ever seen _Get Out_ ,” because she knows that he has not and because it wouldn’t be the most discreet thing she’s ever done. Besides, they’re rapidly introduced to every other person of colour in the crowd, including Janet the Indian real estate agent (probably not her real name) and Marissa who grew up in Europe just like you Marco (not really a minority.)

Nile finds herself longing for the time she had to climb a twenty foot fence with a bullet embedded in her liver. These people just aren’t like her, like anyone she’s grown up around. She’s not sure if Nicky’s keeping her close for her sake or for everyone around her, but it’s working. He accepts a plate of canapés from Lindsay-Jessica-Samantha and at least he’s prepared her for the hand feeding thing. The tartlets are divine, obviously, and just as obviously not home-made by anyone who owns a home here.

“You two,” Meredith from day one gushes as she folds Nile’s free hand around a truly massive mojito, “are so romantic. I never see you without each other! It’s so cute, what’s your secret!”

“Uh,” Nile says. “He’s pretty easy on the eyes?”

Nicky steps in and turns the full force of his smile on Meredith. “This woman is the funniest, smartest person I have ever met, and I miss her the moment I walk out of a room.” Then he leans down, telegraphing his moves carefully, and kisses her.

Nile knew this would happen. Married couples who are hopelessly lost in each other kiss. She should have practiced, though, at least a few experimental pecks with a pillow to get her back in the game. Instead, she brings her hand up automatically, the mojito she’s holding presses against Nicky’s neck just behind his ear. And he shivers, which in the moment definitely and intentionally looks like they’re the sort of couple who can only make it through the first half of a damn garden party.

Annoyingly, it’s not the worst kiss Nile has had. It’s very unfair that Nicky should kiss one mouth for nearly a millennium and still turn it out when the pressure is on.

“It can be so hard to get a good man,” another woman sighs. “They’re always out there putting themselves first, forgetting it’s cleaning day, babysitting the kids—“

Nile laughs uncomfortably. “Yeah, I guess I just lucked out with this one.”

Meredith coos and claps her hands. “The cutest couple,” she says, clapping between each word. Nile rests her head on Nicky’s shoulder and smiles like they do this sort of thing all the time. “I just can’t believe we lucked out with you two, normally we like to vet new arrivals but you—“

“Spilling all the neighbourhood secrets already,” Brittany asks, emerging from the crowd right beside Meredith. The other woman’s mouth shuts closed, and then she titters uncomfortably and hooks her elbow through Brittany’s in a classic chummy move.

“I know how lucky we are,” Nile says warmly. “I couldn’t have dreamed of having this house two years ago, but it feels like anything is possible with Marco.”

“Well, I know you two like to share the same air, but I have to give you a tour,” Meredith laughs. Nile lets go of Nicky’s hand with reluctance, does not wipe her palm on the thigh of her linen pants. “You’re going to die when you see the entertainment room, really! It’ll give you some good ideas.”

A house tour is exactly what Nile was hoping for, actually. She digs up her knowledge of the highlight reels of House Hunters, rubbing an appreciative hand over the granite countertop and agreeing that really, while it looks nice to design cabinetry around televisions the technology is just changing too fast to be practical. When Brittany is distracted with opening one of her soft-closed doors or explaining the cloud hookup for the light system, Nile is scoping the room to look for anything out of place.

From the master bedroom upstairs, through the office where Brittany drops hints about a nursery as she laughs “for now, but I do want to be established before I start taking some time off!", and even around the reclining chairs in a theatre setup in the basement, Nile looks hard. It is the whitest, tidiest, most gadgety place she has ever seen, but there’s nothing that adds to what she knew before she got her.

She shakes her head at Nicky’s inquiring smile when they reemerge into the sunlight. “I didn’t even know I wanted a wine cellar until I saw Brit’s. She makes our house look like it's still a show home!”

“Oh, you’ll get there,” Brittany laughs. “I already know you’re going to be one of us.”

There are constantly new drinks pressed in Nile’s hand. She volunteers to host the next book club meeting and is assured she can borrow a copy of _Girl, Wash Your Face_ , pretends to munch on the toes of one of the few babies in the group, and is added to the Ladies of Clear Heights WhatsApp group. Nicky seems to have less luck with the men, though he does agree to a six AM tee-time and has a surprisingly impassioned conversation about the Seattle Kracken with a small, balding man. And Nile is exhausted by the time she gets back.

“These people drink,” she mutters as she struggles to balance and unlace her shoes. “They make Booker look sober.”

“Booker never chugged a pint glass of Sex on the Beach while loudly telling everyone around him that he has, indeed, had sex on a beach before,” Nicky agrees. He folds himself down to the ground and picks at the knot on her left ankle, gently lifting her foot to take the offending shoe off as she rests a hand for balance on her head.

“We’re really good at this,” Nile says absently. “Julia says she’s going to burn me a mixtape of noughties pop hits. It’ll probably only be seventy percent Ke$ha.”

Nicky, working on her other foot, absently says, “I like ’Come On’” and hums several bars of it.

“That,” Nile says firmly, “is _our song_.”

It would be smarter to just lay down on the bed, but the floor is closer and has Nicky there. He holds his head and shoulder steady as she continues to use him as a brace until she can fold her legs comfortably and find her core.

Nicky pats her cheek with his hand stretched wide, smiling sleepily at her. “You know, it’s kind of fun to do things with just us.”

“It is,” Nile agrees. “I think you’re really cool.”

“You’re also very cool,” Nicky says. He stretches out on his back and folds his hands on his stomach. “I’m so glad we found each other.”

“I think it’s going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Nile says quietly, feels the familiar surge of homesickness and grief.

Nicky lifts his head up just high enough that he can meet her eyes. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” he announces and holds his arms spread. “Come here, let’s just—nap before bed.”

Nile army crawls over to him, hesitates before resting her head on his chest. Nicky folds his arms loosely around her and sighs. Nile is almost asleep when she hears him mumble, “Fair warning—I think we actually do still get hangovers. It’s very unjust.”

\--

She wakes with her hips sore from sleeping on the floor and a pillow tucked under her head. She squints through the sleep in her eyes at Nicky, leaning down and holding out a handful of Tylenol. “You have time for a shower before church.”

“Bless you and keep you,” Nile groans, whether about the thought of the hot shower or the Tylenol to target the dull pounding in her skull. Nicky keeps an arm around her waist as they stroll to the church and Nile decides to lean into him, searches with her head for the softest point in the muscles on his shoulder.

The service is unspectacular, even if it does feel great to be back in a church. Sunday service usually isn’t an option, with the weird locations they end up. There’s something reassuring about praying in a group, in choosing to pray rather than seeking out God in the rapidly-collecting horrifying moments of her life. On the other hand, Nile can admit that this in particular is the sort of morning that makes her question how much Jesus needs butts in seats. She just wants to wear sunglasses, mourn her lost youth, and question why she can heal a broken leg but still feel like her liver is trying to tunnel dramatically out of her body.

She’s still propping her weight into Nicky on the way home when the women’s walking group overtakes them. The lead walker begins, “It’s so lovely that you go to church! We’re so _naughty_ , it’s all I can do to make Dan comes at Christmas! I just don’t know how you met someone so thoughtful!”

“I bet it was so nice to travel and realize that you’d found a perfect man who wouldn’t complain when you wanted to go to an early service!” another adds. Nicky smiles politely, but seems to acknowledge that they’re treating this as a girl’s only moment and doesn’t try to respond.

“And was your family religious?” a third asks. “I remember you saying something over dessert about a brother. Booker, was it? What a funny name. But then, Brooke and Booker, that's cute!"

A chill shoots down Nile’s spine. Nicky’s index finger taps firmly against her palm twice but he’s too good to react further. “Oh, wow, I got deep into the family history last night,” Nile says. Then, matching the energy of the English major girls from university, she adds, “thanks tequila!”

“ _Thanks, tequila_ ,” woman one laughs. “You’re so funny, Brooke. So your brother, where does he live?”

“He’s in Silicon Valley, doing IT maintenance. We call him Booker because when he was really little he... uh, liked books a lot,” Nile lies mindlessly as she checks her memory. They’d mentioned Booker in the bedroom, she’s sure the window had been closed. Definitely bugged then. “Who knows when he’ll come visit, he’s hard to pry away from that stuff.”

Nile keeps her smile up until they’re inside, then takes the opportunity to lay face down on the bed for a few moments. Why did she figure that these people had boundaries. Why are they creeps who probably want to know if their newlywed neighbours want to have sex. Why didn’t she move faster when she saw Andy and Joe moving to touch their index fingers in the classic not-it move.

Nicky sits next to her for a few minutes. “I said I’d be the fourth in Michael’s golf team today. Will you take it easy?”

“These guys play a lot of golf. I’m happy to stay in; I’ll have a bubblebath,” she says. Both Nile and Brooke deserve it after last night.

“I’ll start the water,” he says and leaves.

He’s also added a bath bomb, which is a sweet gesture if little bit much and also bad for the Jacuzzi jets. On top of a fresh towel, there’s a tightly folded note. Nile picks it up, opens it close to her body and takes a look.”

“You’re doing great,” with a smiley face, all penciled in Nicky’s jagged hand with letters that seem stretched too far vertically and weird spacing between words. Nile laughs and crumples it up, then takes it into the bath with her to destroy it. She leaves soggy scraps of paper, a rind of pink bath bomb, and a metric tonne of uneasiness behind when she gets out of the tub. It’s not all bad news that the women revealed on they were being surveiled. More chances to slip in clues that they were ready to pick up whatever these creepy people looked down. Or at least to seed the land with more compliments about the women, get them to open up to her.

It’s hard to keep going with the knowledge that even the bathroom might not be a safe place to say what she really wants to. Still, Nile meets Nicky at the door when he gets back from the game, gives him a quick peck and hauls him inside.

“That soak was good for you,” he laughs.

“Well, someone is very good at arranging that kind of thing. It really made me feel great,” Nile emphasizes the last word so he knows she read the note. Then she reaches first for Nicky’s hand and hauls him into the dining room for supper.

Nile misses the routine of training, researching, and napping she’d established since her immortality hit. The mornings are very slow and it feels like there’s nothing to do here except gossip and take scenic walks. She’s invited over for “noonsies” (three bottles of wine) twice in one morning when she’s just going to get the paper, and roped into planning the beach volleyball tournament the next.

She and Nicky are invited everywhere, separate or together. The men seem determined to live up to clichéd activities, folding Nicky into their fantasy football league and keeping him out late three nights in a row when the movie theatre plays the full run of Star Wars trilogies. Nile is subject to a more diverse range of activities. The women go for pedicures before attending a lecture series on the work of Gloria Steinem. They volunteer at the animal shelter, which is actually kind of neat, and they swap memes and recipes on four different digital platforms. Given that Nile’s pages have been memorialized and that “Brooke” only had two real friends on facebook before the op, and one of them was just Joe emailing her daily poems for her to read out loud to Nicky, it’s nice to settle back into regular online communication.

The couple thing gets a little easier. They go to a construction day where the women drink Bacardi Breezers and the men fight over how to build a pergola without following any instructions, and Nile wolf whistles when Nicky pulls his shirt up to wipe his face. Nicky brings her plates loaded with treats when she’s stuck with the board of the Homeowner’s Association for two hours debating wooden versus metal fences, and she catches his hand as it lands on her shoulder, leans her head back so he can kiss her forehead.

The other women continue to giggle over it like they’ve never seen a romantic man before. Admittedly, Nile has never been so persistently romanced in her damn life, but they’ve all seen _the Notebook_. She’s not a rom-com heroine, she’s just a woman secretly trying to uncover the nature of an upper-middle-class while learning that sometimes white people like to do shots at brunch. Rather than be uncomfortable with the attention, Nile leans in. She sweeps Nicky’s hair off his forehead and puts sunscreen on the back of his ears when they lounge in the park. He impresses the women again by asking thoughtful questions about their children’s after school programs. She boops him on the nose and manages not to snort-laugh at the way his eyes cross.

There are a lot of outings, but the schedule and down-time are drastically different than anything Nile has experienced with Andy. The immortals always seem to be better at slowing down than she is, yet. What was annoying when they spent days going over equipment procedures or watching inexplicably long foreign films is hell when Nile realizes that equipment and movies would be a pleasant distraction from this life. Booker lent her a copy of _Les Miserables_ in French before she left and told her it was a light read, and she’s actually a third of the way through it.

Nicky flourishes at the sloth pace. He spends ten minutes debating cuts of meat with the butcher while Nile clenches her teeth and thinks, “I love this man, this is so fun” repeatedly to stop the expression from meeting her eyes. He manages to look invested in a detailed conversation about the stock market and still gracefully avoid adding his opinion with an, “Oh, I’m not really the money one. But please, tell me more.”

Nile is forced to spend two hours on the sidewalk, increasingly aware of her sweaty hand in Nicky’s, listening to the oldest man in the world talk about orchid beetles and shrubbery maintenance. Nicky looks captivated and Nile thinks they would still be there if the man hadn’t remembered his doctor’s appointment and been hustled off by his son.

Things take an unwanted turn towards activity when she tries to check their digital rendezvous and realizes that the link isn’t working. She checks again and realizes that somewhere along the way, the neighbourhood internet has been choked and there seem to be a list of approved websites. Nicky finds a reference to it on page nineteen of the Homeowner’s Agreement, in the middle of a paragraph about positive community representation. Nile is good with computers, but she’s not a hacker yet. She can’t figure out how to get around it and turning the laptop and transmission devices off and on again definitely isn’t working. What a good place to punch her way out, rather than hold ground and watch the sharks circling. The third time she reboots the laptop, Nicky pulls her away and rests his hands on her shoulders. “Someone will drop off a new one, don’t worry.”

The new tech comes two days later, upgrades and handywork from Booker and Copley hidden in its apple packaging. It comes with Joe.

Nile instinctively hugs him, lets him catch her up to twirl her.

“I had to see how the lovebirds were setting up their roost,” he laughs. “I can’t stay long, but I was going between offices and the boss said you needed some replacements. Tell me, is this how the other half lives?”

“You shouldn’t have,” Nile says and then remembers that they’re on the porch and literally everyone watches them all the time. Nicky comes to the door, blinks once and then holds out his hand. Watching them shake hands, not even leaning in to each other, is the most surreal moment of the month. When they drop their hold, Joe hastily picks up the box he’d set on the stoop and Nicky drapes an arm over Nile’s shoulder.

“Let us feed you before you get back on the road,” Nile says when the silence stretches out. She leans the point of her shoulder into the soft part of Nicky beneath his armpit, forces him back a few steps into the house. He and Joe are still staring at each other.

“Oh yeah, that would be great. I’ve got an evening meeting that I’m driving straight to,” Joe says thoughtlessly. “Most of the office is mangling our deal falling through in Canada, so I’m covering a few bases.”

A different op for Andy, Quynh and Booker, then. Nile doesn’t like to split the team, but she has to admit that it’s impressive that Andy’s held a support position for this long. It must be urgent.

“Don’t let them work you too hard,” she says. Joe laughs and claps a hand down on her shoulder. His pinky touches Nicky’s arm where it drapes around her neck. There is no damn place in the house she can leave the two of them alone.

“Marco, honey, why don’t you get the food started and I’ll do the house tour,” she says. Nicky jumps minutely, then murmurs his assent. He kisses her forehead as she goes and Nile tows Joe through every room of their house, pointing out inane things like the baseboards and dimmer switches. She watches Joe closely when they enter the master bedroom, but he doesn’t look jealous for an instant when he sees the rumpled bed.

“This place is perfect for you,” he says instead, looking near laughter. “I’m glad I got to see it.”

Nile doesn’t release Nicky to walk Joe back to his car, even if it's the sort of thing he might do for any guest. Finally, the hand holding has played to her advantage. She's not mean enough to stop him when he takes his usual angled seat on the couch and his view is Joe’s back rather than his normal scope of the road. Nicky looks tired when Joe’s car turns the corner off their street.

“Why don’t you have a quiet night,” she suggests. “I’m going over to Brittany’s for _the Bachelorette_ , you can finally have your _NCIS: LA marathon_.”

She leaves Nicky on the couch, holding a pillow with the crime scene lights reflecting off his pale face.

\--

Nile hasn’t even got her bottle of wine out of her purse when the mob of women descends on her.

“Oh, honey,” Angela wails. “I’m so sorry.”

“I had no idea,” Michelle adds, startling Nile with a hug.

“I should have known, normally I have a wonderful sense for these things,” Brittany says. The women clear a path for her as she presses a fishbowl sized wine glass into Nile’s hands. “Of course, with men taking care of themselves these days there are _so_ many mixed messages. We really did hope that your Marco was different, but you know guys.”

“I’m sorry, what,” Nile asks, feeling like she’s missed the plot.

“I was just out walking the dog and I couldn’t help noticing that you two had your first visitor from out of town,” Meredith says and squeezes her elbow. “And you know, it just all _clicked_.”

“I really don’t think,” Nile continues, mentally scrambling to remember if any of that afternoon’s conversations could blow their cover. “I was just having this really embarrassing work problem, and the company figured he could drop off the fix on his way through town."

“A colleague, sure, of course. If I had a colleague that looked at me like that, I’d clock overtime until I died.” The wall of women usher her onto the biggest couch and gather around. She feels inexplicably like Sandy at the sleepover in _Grease_. “Honey, we’re here for you, you don’t have to lie any more.”

“Those pants, the way he’s so nice in complimenting everyone,” Meredith coos. “And then today, the way he looked at that man’s _bum_.”

“The way you haven’t had S-E-X since you got here,” Julia adds, spelling the word out loud.

“Hey, now.” Nile nearly jumps to her feet.

Brittany presses her down. “Your husband is gay, sweetie. But don’t worry, the girls are here to help you get through it. It must be so hard, realizing that he’s using you, and we don’t want to rush you through it. Why don’t you drink and think about what you want to do next, and if you’re feeling like maybe a divorce is the best option we can show you our little side-hustle to help you stay on your feet.”

Nile has a choice. She can defend the sexual honour of a man who she knows is in fact gay and was in fact staring at Joe’s ass, or take advantage of the newly-presented in. She drops herself back down, covers her face with one hand. “I just didn’t want to admit it, we’re so happy together. You guys don’t think it’s—it’s a green card thing, do you?”

There’s a Greek chorus of, “sweetheart, no”s and Nile drains half the wine glass to steady herself. “I just think,” Brittany says carefully, “that it can be so hard to rely on men these days.”

“He was the first guy I’ve really been with,” Nile manages. She drinks the rest of her wine, turns to look away, and comes back to see another full glass in her hand.

The tone in the room takes a harder edge, the woman look more hawkish even as they pull out blankets and offer snacks to comfort her.

“He’s a total idiot to not appreciate you. How can he be so sweet to you and then—with his colleague. So blatant, right out there in the yard. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“Maybe we should just watch _the Bachelorette_ ,” Nile manages and chugs another mouthful. “I, uh. You’re right, I do need time to think about this, but I’m so glad I’m one of you guys.”

\--

Nicky does a fist pump when she walks in and gives him a double thumbs up. “You look like you had a great time,” he says cheerfully.

“I feel like I’m going to float away,” she replies. “And they’ve scheduled more for tomorrow. Turns out I needed a training schedule to keep up with margarita Mondays.”

Nicky laughs and folds her into a long hug. Nile can’t think of a way to tip him off further, let him know that his relationship to his actual husband is much more obvious than his ability to play one. But Nicky is good at reacting to situations, and Nile doesn’t even know what they’re going to have to do to end this thing yet.

She wakes up to a text from Brittany, “Ten pm, Meredith’s place! Just bring your beautiful self!” and seven heart eyed smiley faces. Ordinarily before the next stage in a mission Nile would exercise, maybe check over her guns and visualize the route in. Then she remembers that she’s a woman who was just told that her husband didn’t really love her, and decides to have a pajama day instead. She puts on Nicky’s robe (much fluffier) and gets a pint of Chunky Monkey from the fridge and plants herself down to stream the first season of _This Is Us_. She doesn’t even have to pretend to cry for the women watching through cracked blinds across the street, the show does all the work for her.

Most of the lights are off at Meredith's when Nile crosses their lawns just after ten. Meredith answers the door and wraps her in a hug. “Long day, I bet. I’m so proud of you for holding things together.”

“It’s good to be here,” Nile says truthfully.

“Come with us. You’re going to love this.”

They go down through the basement, which could be the twin of Brittany’s except that the TV is slightly smaller, and then down another flight of stairs accessed by keypad behind a bookshelf. Another keypad and a fingerprint scanner, and Meredith guides her through into a sterile-bright room.

“Surprise,” she shrieks. One of the other woman looks up from her lab bench and holds up presenting hands to frame the room like she’s on a game show. Nile looks around at the surgical tables and neat rows of drugs and her jaw drops. She thinks, holy shit Jordan Peele was right.

“That’s right, girlfriend, we have a little side hustle,” Brittany says and hugs Nile from behind. “We liberate organs from misogynistic assholes and redistribute them to the people who really need them! And we think you’re going to fit right in.”

“I had no idea,” Nile says, more honestly than she expected.

“I know, yesterday you probably expected that we’d all fallen for GOOP or some silly MLM scheme,” Brittany says, gently steering Nile out of the way so the rest of the women can file in. “But I got my PhD in biochemistry! Whitney nearly passed med school! And Meredith—“

“I have a double major in Classics and Politics,” Meredith says. It doesn’t have the same punch as the first two careers but Nile manages to smile cautiously at her. “And my husband doesn’t even care. I bring up Virgil, all he wants to do is talk about his golf score.”

“Mike says that we shouldn’t renovate the office until I’m ready to settle down and stay home with the kids,” Brittany confesses, fire in her eyes. “Why should I put my career on hold just because it’s not fashionable for women to be in science? I made more than him even before I started this venture, but I’m the one who has to stay home?”

Somehow, her defense of their underground organ stealing ring is the most relatable thing Brittany has said to Nile since their first greeting. Still scanning the room, she says, “I’m not really sure how I fit into this thing.

“Oh, no, you’re perfect just the way you are! You know, you can open… new markets. It’s great to have a fresh face.”

So, smart but still racist. Cool.

Nile doesn't have anything she needs to resolve this situation. Killing these women seems a little extra. Copley’s notes on the mysterious money drain in this neighbourhood and the neurotic levels of digital security and police payoffs had them thinking crime ring, absolutely. He’s going to make the dumbest, most annoyed face when she tells him what he missed. She just has to get out and actually talk to Nicky they can decide what level of violence is appropriate here.

“And we weren’t sure if you’d be sad or angry about Marco’s betrayal, but either way we thought it might be nice to ring in your new career with a big change.”

Two women pull in Nicky. He’s unconscious, she thinks—And Nile has gotten pretty good at differentiating between unconscious and dead. There’s no blood, and she has no idea how they got the jump on him. They’re strapping him down and he isn’t even moving except for the rise and fall of his chest.

“Dart guns,” Brittany answers her unspoken question. “The way we get all our men in here. Sometimes they just take so long to do what you ask, right? Ha! So we speed up the process a little bit. Your husband currently has enough horse tranquilizers in his system to sedate… Well, a horse.”

“I’m fine with him being gay,” Nile says. “I’m sorry that I didn’t make that explicit, I wasn’t aware that we were defaulting to homophobia. I’m sad but I’m okay with just getting a divorce.”

Brittany gives her a very sympathetic look. “All men disappoint you eventually. And besides, like you said, he might just have wanted a green card. It’ll be ages before anyone even realizes he’s gone. Now, do you want to make the first cut?”

Nile takes the scalpel. Better that she have it than any of those women. She walks over, looks up at them and then takes another look down at Nicky’s chest. She’s not sure what angle there is left to play for time that doesn’t involve a different bloodthirsty wine mom stepping in.

She presses the scalpel gently to the space between his lower ribs. Between clenched teeth, she mutters, “any time now would be good.”

Nicky’s lashes flutter and he cracks open the eye nearest her. Nile exhales hard, then draws the scalpel sharply away from the tiny wound and over to slice through the strap. She moves to his feet to cut that one too, hears the women start to yell in confusion and rage.

He rolls off the bed and uses his momentum to swing the bed on its skittering rollers to the nearest woman to them. Nile scrambles her free hand behind her, grabs a beaker and hurls it full force, overhand, at European Marissa. It shatters loudly and Marissa goes down. So girls can’t play baseball, huh, she thinks resentfully at stuffy coach Andrew from high school. Then she reminders herself, still not an excuse for non-consensual organ donation. What a line to be drawing.

“Nile, guns,” Nicky yells and she drops to the floor. Don’t blow the game early—and also, being shot is still not on her top ten list of activities. She stomach crawls to Nicky, who is working down his left sock methodically to reveal a thin knife strapped to his inner leg.

“Of course you did,” she groans.

“Basically weapons free,” he says with a shrug. “I activated the alarm as soon as I felt the dart on my neck, we have backup en route.”

“We can’t let Brittany get away. She’s the one in charge here.”

“The loud one, with the—“ he gestures at his own head in a bouffant shape. “If we corral them now they’ll be sitting ducks when Joe comes through.”

“I’ll take left,” Nile agrees, pulls herself into a crouch and starts working her way towards that wall. The women are still milling and shooting erratically, it’s easy to get in close. From above them, there’s the crunch of a door being kicked out. Rookie mistake, she thinks, to set a thick door in an ordinary wall.

Joe emerges from the darkness looking like exactly the sort of person Brittany would criticize. It would be the perfect time for a one liner, Nile thinks. Instead, in annoyingly competent battle mode, Joe slices at the nearest woman with his sword and grabs the gun off her when she falls.

“Pass it,” Nile yells as she launches herself up over the hospital bed. Joe lobs it so the gun stays upright and straight, settling into her palms in perfect position to shoot out Janet’s knee. Nicky has shoulder-checked his way through the other women to Joe, hands sliding familiarly down his partner’s sides before he comes up with a pistol in each. Nile checks him for bullet wounds and sees two as she shoots at the feet of another woman who’s hauling ass for the stairs.

Nicky stays within the range of Joe’s sword, picking off the women still standing with non-lethal shots as Joe sweeps a perimeter around them. In a room this full of equipment, it’s a different fighting style than the complementary slash and strikes they normally occupy to move through an opposing force. Still, feet planted near each other, Nile thinks they look good.

She is so fucking glad Nicky isn’t her husband any more.

“Stop,” Brittany shrieks. She has one of the abandoned guns and is holding it, inexplicably and startlingly, to her own temple. “You’d be murderers.”

“You—You literally told me that you harvest organs, ten minutes ago.”

“That’s to help people! Think of all those sick kids just waiting for an organ their parents can’t pay for. We’re helping people. We’re redistributing wealth. Just because the men can’t even think of doing something this important doesn’t mean we shouldn’t! You get it, Brooke. You don’t want to kill me!”

Joe shrugs dangerously, clearly transmitting that he is neutral-to-positive on the subject of murder in this room. 

“No, I don’t want to kill you,” Nile agrees and lowers her weapon halfway. “But I also can’t let you get away with this. This is wrong.”

“You just don’t understand,” Brittany says and there are crocodile tears welling in her eyes. Nicky moves whip fast, swinging his gun up and shooting her elbow before she can pull the trigger. Her arm shaken back and bone visible, Brittany’s eyes roll up and she faints.

The room is silent except for the heavy breathing and whimper of women clutching slashed and shot extremities. Nicky pivots back to Joe, returning the pistols to their harnesses on his sides. “Hey.”

“Hey, you.” Joe leans forward and kisses Nicky, sword still held out to his side. Nile rolls her eyes after a few seconds, at the point where Joe tilts his chin up and Nicky moves a hand up to cup his jaw.

“This is a mess,” she says. “Is it even safe for us to turn them over to the police?”

“They’ll be out in a week, Joe grumbles. “The system here—“

Nicky says, “It’s the right thing to do.” That is exactly the phrase that got them into this mess, Nile remembers.

“There are probably sedatives in here,” she offers. “We tie them up, knock it out, hit the road?”

“Light the house on fire,” Joe adds cheerfully. “But I like it, kid. Let’s do it.”

Hauling twenty women up two flights of stairs is almost as bad as discussing the benefits of secateurs versus automatic leaf trimmers. They set them up in the back yard and watch Joe prepare a series of accelerant points throughout first Meredith’s house, then their own. After such an extended period of scrutiny, Nile is surprised to realize that she can’t sense any eyes on her. She takes the fake wedding picture out of its frame in the mantel, folds it and tucks it in his pocket.

When she turns, Joe is busily dragging a body into the living room, putting a cigarette in the corpse’s hand and setting him to recline on the couch.

“I thought you might need an extraction, so I liberated Jane and John on their way to the crematorium," he explains.

“Two vigilantes move in, bust the crime ring, leave the perps and die in the uncontrolled fire that breaks out,” Nile murmurs as she realizes. “That’s—Joe, you’ve been watching too many late night forensic shows.”

He shrugs and holds out the match to her. “Do you want to do the honours, Mrs. Davis?”

“I’m ready to burn something down,” she agrees, takes the match and drops it on the accelerant soaking the couch. Joe offers his arm, gentlemanly, and she walks by his side out the door.

“You stealing my wife?” Nicky teases, brings the other arm around her as the satisfying whumph of a fire expands behind them.

“I’m stealing something, for sure,” Joe murmurs, voice lower and scratchy.

Nile takes the shotgun seat, rests her arm out the window. Standing in the doorway to Brittany and Michael’s house, Michael raises a hand in parting and smiles at them. They’re out of town and coasting down the highway before Nile leans her head back and grins at Joe.

“So, we spent literally two hours discussing invasive species with Mr. Peters. Nicky kept asking him questions about earth-friendly alternatives to pesticides.”

Joe sighs blissfully and reaches back for Nicky’s knee. “Yeah, he does that.”

“Next time we have to do this, you and Booker can be the couple.”

\--

Nile and Joe are elbows deep in their plan to catch up to the others in Saskatchewan, heads together over a sparsely annotated roadmap. Nicky comes in from grocery shopping, which Nile is never volunteering to do with him again, and sets a package of Schneider’s Meat, Macaroni and Cheese Loaf next to Joe’s elbow.

“What fresh hell,” Nile states, not posing it as a question. Joe smirks at her and tears the package open, rolling a piece and popping it whole into his mouth. Nicky kisses the top of his head and squeezes his shoulder before continuing to unload the last of their groceries on the counter.

“Hey, you gotta eat like the locals,” Joe says shamelessly. Nile groans and throws a travel guide at him.

Later, when they’re watching reruns of _Cops_ and waiting for acknowledgement that they should move, Nile gets a sinking feeling of realization. Nicky and Joe had started further apart, Joe next to her on the couch and Nicky folded into an armchair to her left, and then Joe had mentioned offhand that it would be a nice night for popcorn. Nicky is out of his seat and in the kitchen before he finishes the thought, returning with a full bowl and gently kneeing Joe into the centre of the couch so he’s bracketed by Nicky and Nile.

“I didn’t know we had snack food,” she mentions. Microwave popcorn had not been on the cobbled-together grocery list they’d sent Nicky off with, and during their ‘marriage’ he’d never even gone down that aisle.

“Just a feeling I had,” Nicky hums. He moves his arm across Joe’s shoulder, settling to cradle him up close. Nile has seen that move before.

“Nicky,” she says carefully. “When we were playing happy couples with the crazy organ snatchers, and you put the moves on me around town—“

“Mmm?” Nicky hums. He’s watching the TV, relaxed back into the couch, but his fingertips have bunched up the fabric of Joe’s t-shirt sleeve and are tracing up and down gently along his upper arm.

“Niccolo, you have _moves_ ,” Joe says with delight. Nicky shifts to look at him and smiles, takes Joe’s buttery hand and kisses a fingertip.

“You used your sexy Joe moves on me?” Nile yells. “Nicky! I thought you’d just read Cosmo!”

“What’s Cosmo?” Nicky asks. He and Joe are making the kind of eye contact that bodes poorly for any innocent parties in the blast radius. “But thank you, Nile. I wasn’t sure how well I was doing, my.... moves seem to work much better on Joe.” 

Joe twists and leans into him and Nicky’s resting hand trails up to his back with the movement, then drifts steadily downwards until he has his fingers tucked into Joe’s waistband. Nile has a moment of gracious thanks that he’d never dipped that low on her before Joe jumps into motion, standing up and hauling Nicky with him.

“You know, I think I’ve seen this episode,” Joe says breathlessly. Nicky looks smug as hell, laces the fingers on both their hands together and takes a step backwards towards the bedroom. “Nile, can you hold down the fort?”

Hand holding should not be that erotically charged, Nile thinks. She shoots them a thumbs up and pointedly turns the television up. The bedroom door snicks closed and Nile works the volume again, then pulls the abandoned popcorn onto her lap and settles in for a long night.


End file.
